


Romance Languages

by vaingloriousactor



Category: Assassins - Sondheim/Weidman
Genre: F/M, Fluff, The ship that makes no sense, but it's cute, fight me, learning italian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-16
Updated: 2017-12-16
Packaged: 2019-02-15 09:04:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13027743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vaingloriousactor/pseuds/vaingloriousactor
Summary: The whole point of purgatory is redemption, moving on. Squeaky realizes something is different in her somewhat amorphous state. So she learns Italian.





	Romance Languages

**Author's Note:**

  * For [peristeronic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/peristeronic/gifts).



> Yadda Yadda I know these are real people but this show is great. Also I am well aware Fromme is alive. And I'm very glad Manson is burning in Hell.

“ _ Buongiorno. Come stai? Bene, grazie _ .”

 

She rehearses in the mirror and feels as if she were in high school Spanish class  again, not that she ever actually paid attention or did her homework.  She fingers the tiny, poorly written flashcards in her hands and sighs, biting her lip and looking back at her reflection.  

 

“ _ Mi chiamo Lynette _ .” Her accent is clumsy, even more so when she tries to inflect her very American name.  She wasn’t skilled enough to say “I’m not dead but a fraction of my soul lives in purgatory anyway.”  Maybe with a few more lessons.

 

It was difficult finding someone willing to learn with her, or at least quiz her on basic phrases and words, things like  _ cane _ , but more particularly,  _ brutto cane _ .

 

“Why do you need to learn Italian?” The man asked, crossing one leg over the other as he slid down the seat of a motionless “Tunnel of Love” bench as if it were a neon pink painted throne.

 

“Because I want to.” She crossed her arms. “John, I swear to God, don’t ask questions. Just do it.”

 

The man next to him, all lean muscle and aggravation, started laughing.

 

“Oh.” He stopped chuckling just long enough to say and the John only looked at him with mild annoyance at the grand punchline he was surely missing out on.

 

“See, Lee gets it.”

 

Neither of them helped her with her flashcards anyway.

 

As she walked along the row of empty but still flashing game booths finding a quiet place, the ugly little dog ran out from behind a stand, barking at her.

 

“Shoo, you ugly bitch, this is top secret.” But the dog kept trotting, wagging her hairless tail.

 

“Yip!” Barked Eleanor.

 

She sighed and crouched beside the fur-free creature, taking a few moments to rub her belly.

 

“Now, scat! Shoo!”

 

“Texas boy said you were learning Italian to be a flirt or something.”

 

Lynette looked up at the one other woman present for God-knows how many miles (aside from the woman in the stuffy old fashioned dresses she saw appear from time to time).

“No comment. Don’t you have Sam to go bone or something?”

 

Moore shrugged and crouched beside Lynette and Eleanor Roosevelt the dog.

 

“Y’know, you don’t have to be so evasive with this whole being with Giuseppe thing. We all actually really support it. As far as all of us are concerned, it’s much better than the alternative.”

 

Lynette stares, unblinking, feeling her jaw slowly drop.

 

“How? We were being secret! And besides, it’s not my  _ thing _ anyway. What happens when other people show up here? What are they going to think when my whole damn  modus operandi or whatever has fallen to the wayside?”

 

Moore sighed  and tilted the younger woman’s chin up, offering her best semi-maternal smile.

 

“It’s ok to be happy, you know.”

 

And she walked away leaving Lynette with the hairless dog who mindlessly chased her tail on the pavement.

 

It didn’t really occur to her that maybe the motto of the whole damn place, the brightly painted sign the Proprietor had painted, the billboard looming above all their heads reminding them that “Everybody’s Got the Right to be Happy” applied to her.  It was strange for her to think that she could be happy, herself. That she could have a love out of...whatever it was she had with  _ him _ .  It felt almost wrong, that she could branch outside of the image that had been specially crafted for her.  And yet she thought of everyone else there.  She thought of Sam laughing at one of Moore’s tasteless jokes as she leaned against his shoulder with a bright, sincere smile, of John teaching Lee how to “properly” dance, his ring-wrapped fingers looping through blue jean belt loops as he pushed him back, and of even Leon smiling and raising his own glass to one of Charles’ many toasts. She had the right to be happy too.

 

“Think we should tell him?” She looked down at the dog who only yipped.  “I take that as a yes.”

 

And so she rose,winding her way to the residential quarters, climbing the rickety stairs that had grown so familiar to her, not even bothering to knock on the door.  Eleanor ran in past her feet, summoning Giuseppe, only semi-keeled over in pain.

 

“Squitti?” he raised his brows. She usually only showed up at night.  Lynette cleared her throat.

 

“ _ Buongiorno. Come stai? Va bene. Mi chiamo Lynette. _ ”

He laughed a bit, applauding at her attempt to speak his language. He was about to comment when she quickly spoke again.

  
“ _ Et ti amo. _ ”


End file.
